Stone Cold Killer
by 1732
Summary: What if Bates is not as innocent as he appears?


I don't know where I heard it, but somewhere, someone (Brendan Coyle?) referred to Bates as a 'stone cold killer'. After an initial Nnoooo!, I started thinking about it, and this is the result. Fun to write, I hope fun to read, too. Please review, point out typos, etc. Thanks!

* * *

Thomas looked down at the case of snuffboxes. Pretty things, but they annoyed him. It was the temptation. He'd just get pinched for it if he nicked one, and he had no idea where he could fence it, anyway. If only he could tell what wouldn't be noticed from what would. He might have the valet job, but he was sure Carson came in and counted all the cufflinks every time he had a half day off. Stealing would just get him fired, and he needed this job. What were the chances of Bates returning?

"Do you want the ruby cufflinks this evening, milord?" He picked them up, taking the response for granted. Really, valeting was dead easy, compared to what O'Brian had to do with her ladyship. It was always this pair of cufflinks with that dinner jacket.

Lord Grantham nodded and held out a sleeve for Thomas to work on.

Time for a bit of chit-chat, and information gathering. "Is Mr Bates keeping his spirits up? Must be tough, in prison like that."

Lord Grantham shrugged. "He's doing far better than most would, he's not giving up, and I'm doing all I can to help." His eyes were focussed off in the distance, and Thomas wondered what Bates could have done, to have gathered such loyalty from a man as powerful as Lord Grantham. If only Grantham cared half as much about his new valet.

_Lord Grantham remembered a day, many years past. He had confessed to Sergeant Bates that Captain Headly had won an astounding amount of money off him. He was going to have to write his father, and completely humiliate himself, begging for funds that he knew were needed at Downton. Why had he gotten so drunk, and how had the stakes been raised so high, in the course of a single evening?_

_ Bates had told him not to worry, to give it a week before writing his father. "It's a war, sir, and life is cheap," he said, cryptically._

_ Bates went out that morning, rifle in hand, to do a bit of reconnaissance. An hour later, there was small skirmish, a couple of shots fired, and Headly was dead, two shots through his heart. Bates returned, an odd smile on his face. "Everything's in order, Captain," he'd said. When he served dinner, he said, "I helped Captain Headly's batman pack his kit up. We decided not to send the IOUs home, no need for his wife to sort through them."_

Grantham set his shoulders, trying to ignore those nagging memories from the past.

Thomas Barrow picked up the clothes brush and dusted off Lord Grantham's jacket. "Don't you think that you have to consider, m'lord, that he might be guilty?" He asked. _And that I'd be the ideal replacement_, he thought.

_" _Perhaps I should," Lord Grantham agreed, shrugging off the memory. More recent recollections caught at him. "But not yet. I owe him so much.."

* * *

Lord Grantham accompanied Anna Bates to the prison at York. As a member of the peerage, he was allowed to visit without oversight. Anna waited outside, while he visited his valet. Bates was brought into the interview room, his shackles removed, and he sat down, across the table from his lordship. He cocked his head, waiting, while the guard left, closing the door on the two of them.

"Bates, how are you doing? I've brought Anna, she'll see you after we're done. My solicitor is working on your case."

"I'm well enough, your lordship, and I'm glad we have this opportunity to talk. It's very simple. You need to get me out."

"Well, yes, I'm doing what I can, of course, but there's some evidence that is troubling."

"I bloody know that. You aren't listening. You say your lawyer is working on my case, well, so is mine, in his own way. He has a nice thick envelope in his office. Oh, and he's not the only one, in case you thought you could buy him off. It's a wonderful story, about how you paid me to kill Headly for his IOUs, and then paid me again to kill my own wife, just to preserve Lady Mary's secret. Of course, once I was arrested, you wanted me dead, as well, so that the truth couldn't get out. It will go to the newspapers, and not the one Carlisle owns, if I am still here a month from now, or if they hang me. I have friends who are willing to do me a favor or two, for a fee. And, thanks to my recently departed wife, I have the funds to pay them. Anyone who testifies against me at the trial is going to regret it. Sorely. So, m'lord, I have a simple request. Get. Me. Out."

Robert Crawley paled as Bates spoke. This was the face he'd seen only three times. The first time was when Captain Headly was killed, then years later, he'd shown up, IOUs in hand, looking for a job, and again, the morning he'd gotten into a car with the Duke of Cranborough, having been sacked. The one look he'd shot back as he got into the car had been enough to send Lord Grantham scurrying to stop him from leaving, and Bates knew it.

"I'll do what I can." He said, tightly.

"You'd better, for your own sake."

Grantham used his handkerchief to mop at his forehead. "I'll try, Bates. I swear I will, but you know there are no guarantees."

Bates laughed. "You'd better try damned hard, m'lord. Now, pass over those cufflinks before you go. I'm so glad you didn't wear the crested ones today, no resale value at all." Lord Grantham surrendered the cufflinks with a sigh, wondering what he could say about their disappearance. Bates peered at them, before sliding them into his pocket. "Garnet. Well, they're better than nothing, I suppose. Smokes aren't cheap in here. We're done. Why don't you send Anna in, I was hoping I could see her. Such a sweet girl. Let's not shatter her illusions."

* * *

Once again, Lord Grantham asked for a private interview with the prisoner. The guard left, closing the door, and they sat at the same table as before. Bates smiled. "Honestly, Robert, you do amaze me. Guilty? Getting your own staff to testify? You know what will happen to your family, just not how, or when. It could be a bizarre poisoning that strikes the entire household. Maybe each member of your family will have an unusual accident, spread out over a couple of years. You've killed off O'Brian and Hughes, for a fact. You act as though you have a choice, when you bloody know you haven't. Do you seriously think a guilty verdict will change anything? Don't you realize how easy it would be to burn your pretty house down, and how fragile your succession is?" He sighed. "Pull up your damned bootstraps and get me out." He leaned back, comfortable in his prison blues.

"I -" Lord Grantham started.

"You came here to get your orders, and you have them. It's that simple. M'lord." Bates added, sarcastically.

"All this, because of one bad debt? One mistake I made many years ago?"

Bates laughed. "Not because of that at all. Because you're a born fool, an easy mark. You toffs don't have the first idea what life is really like, and you don't realize how much easier it is when you have a little creativity, and don't let other people slow you down. Did it never occur to you to wonder who sold that idiot Headly his marked cards, and supplied him with the drinks he gave you, or did you think all I did was take care of him afterwards? I put the word out that I wanted the batman job, and everyone knew better than to go near it. The rest was just a bit of tipping the balance, here and there, to make sure things went my way."


End file.
